


Champs de Tournesol

by Belladonna_Q



Series: Hannistag [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fauns & Satyrs, Hannistag, Kissing, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Play Fighting, Power Play, Rutting, Stag Hannibal, Stag Will, kinda??, mentions of cannablism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 20:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6674773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belladonna_Q/pseuds/Belladonna_Q
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pabe: I’d like to suggest a Hannistag verse rutting period scenario if that’s okay.<br/>Multiple anons: Hannistag please!<br/>---<br/>“We’re almost to the field,” he smiled, his ears and tail flicking as he relaxed. “C’mon, you gotta see. Let’s go!”</p><p>A head of the older stag, Will made it just to the crest of the hill just before the fields— and he could see them now, so many he could hardly count—before he felt himself tackled swiftly from behind.</p><p>His instinct kicked in immediately, adrenaline sparking even as the scent of Hannibal overwhelmed him. No longer of mountains, of slate and silt, but of their forest and of Will himself. He heard laughter as the older stag pinned him to his back on the grass.<br/>---<br/>For <a href="http://reapersun.tumblr.com">Reapersun</a> and <a href="http://belladonnaq.tumblr.com">BelladonnaQ's</a> prompt fest :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Champs de Tournesol

**Author's Note:**

> Characterizations are based on [Camilleflyingrotten](http://camilleflyingrotten.tumblr.com/) Hannistag comics, found [here](http://camilleflyingrotten.tumblr.com/tagged/hannistag). 
> 
> I used Google Translate for the French. Feel free to correct or advise in the comments :/

Will had dug a blackened hoof into the dirt with rote instinct the moment Hannibal’s ears cocked and the gray stag had gone stone-still.

“Hanni—“

" _Shh_ ,” the other had said quietly but with a sharp tongue, his large bovine-like ears pivoting. They were the only part of his body to move. With a start, the young stag realized the birds had gone silent and the hares, once hopping happily on the hill just beyond the trees, had frozen flat into the grass. He sucked in a breath and buried his hoof further into the earth, searching for tremors or shifts in the terrain. He didn’t feel anything anomalous, but that didn’t bring him any comfort. If Hannibal was on alert, he knew to be as well.

Will had attempted to scent the air as he had seen Hannibal do so many times, and felt immediately foolish for even trying. He only scented the usual things, the safe things—the spring grass, pollen from the various weeds and flowers along the knoll and the many small rodents hidden along the base of the large oaks. He felt oddly disappointed in himself, ears pinning against his skull with frustration as he kept his focus to the older stag’s back.

Hannibal had proven himself to be far more skilled at keeping them safe than Will had. The smoke-gray stag had abilities that far eclipsed his own; sensing threats, traps, predators and even injured and bleeding beasts as far out as a half-a-day run in the distance.

Will wasn’t sure if it was the older stag’s experience or a unique, heightened instinct brought from the stag’s own culture from the mountains. Hannibal was of his kin, but unfamiliar, with his particular language and his peculiar set of skills and… appetite. It had initially frightened the forest faun when he had first lain eyes on the other. That fear however swiftly turned into frustration and even irritability as the unknown mountain stag had repeatedly found him during the winter months. The stag had approached him during that time, his fur a thick, dark-charcoal coat which scented of stone, sediment and slate. He was not of this forest, Will knew immediately. From the mountains then, not from Will’s own home. Why the older buck had been driven so far away and into his woodland, he wasn’t sure at the time or even now as they had become companions.

During the wintertime, Hannibal had stalked the young buck often and gifted him with dead things—other prey animals. Will could clearly remember their bright blood soaking into the white snow. There had been nothing else, nothing green in the fields or up in the trees, and he was starving. And he was being gifted prey-meat, but it was _food_.

Perhaps ‘stalk’ was an unkind word, as if Will were the prey and Hannibal were the predator. It became clear to Will, although perhaps slower than he would have liked to admit, that Hannibal was attempting to _befriend_ him. Providing warm meals during that particularly brutal, frigid season as well as shelter and company. Their kind handled such difficult periods better as a herd and as a single young buck, Will would no doubt be dead if it weren’t for the other.

He found himself forever grateful.

Will let several silent moments pass. It felt like forever, but he kept his head down, antlers at the ready. Slowly, the birds began to chirp cautiously once more. A single hare gave a brave hop down the grass hill. He lifted his head and attempted again. “Hannibal,” he said softly, daring a quiet step forward.

The larger stag’s ears twitched twice, before his body turned in a slowly relaxed manner. He gave a nod, “ _Ils sont partis.”_

Will gave a single nod down, more agreeing with the body language and calm inflection of the other stag than the strange, unfamiliar words of his language.

“Okay, good.” He said, perhaps unnecessarily, but needing to say something to release the tension he felt. He wasn’t sure what threat had come and gone, but he was thankful that it had.

“We’re almost to the field,” he smiled, his ears and tail flicking as he relaxed. “C’mon, you gotta see. Let’s go!”

Hannibal stayed still, watching him silently, but his eyes twinkled in amusement as Will kicked up his hooves and bolted.

A head of the older stag, Will made it just to the crest of the hill just before the fields— and he could see them now, so many he could hardly count—before he felt himself tackled swiftly from behind.

His instinct kicked in immediately, adrenaline sparking even as the scent of Hannibal overwhelmed him. No longer of the mountains, of slate and silt, but of their forest and of Will himself. He heard laughter as the older stag pinned him to his back on the grass.

“Hey!” Will turned and grappled the other’s arm and gripped to shove him off. Hannibal loomed above him, and Will’s breath caught. He often forgot how beautifully muscled the mountain stag truly was. Still though, the young buck grinned as he lurched forward. Their antlers connected with a great _clack!_ Hannibal’s low, charmed chuckle vibrated through Will’s body.

The buck snorted, “Oh yeah?” He tossed his head again, harder, his antlers once more colliding with Hannibal’s larger rack. At the connection, Will could feel the reverberation through his neck and down his spine. It wasn’t wholly unpleasant, after all, they were built for this, even if the angle was awkward. He watched the other stag’s eyes blow wide with the challenge, his teeth grinning sharply as he moved to heave Will. The younger stag twisted in the grass, turning over on his belly, looking to rise, as he felt Hannibal’s lean legs tangle between his own. Their thighs touching, Will’s lower body gave a small backwards thrust, more out of sensation and drive than anything he really wanted to admit at this point.

“ _Will_ ,” Hannibal’s voice was very soft, affectionate, as he returned the rut. Since winter, since living in the warm forest, his coat had gotten softer. Sleeker. The short hairs of his fur brushed smoothly against Will’s legs and lower back.

“Y-yeah?” Will hadn’t meant for it to sound so _breathy_ , but the sensation was pleasurable, pooling warmly in his belly. Hannibal rested his hand to Will’s lower back, fingers sliding across his lightly furred skin. Before Will could even respond verbally or otherwise to the sensation, Hannibal’s fist curled around his tail and tugged.  

“Hanni!” Will snapped, but not in anger, more in shock. He quickly felt heat bloom along his inner thighs and groin. His face flushed immediately in response.

Hannibal threw back his head and laughed. Will took that moment of distraction to turn over and tackle.

As they rolled and laughed and grappled and head-butted, Will suddenly hesitated as he felt their bodies aim closer and closer to the crest of the knoll. Slowly, they began to slide.

With the smallest of pauses at the realization of what was about to immediately transpire, Will had already started laughing as both he and Hannibal fell over the edge of the forest and tumbled down the grassy hill. Evidently, Hannibal had not anticipated this as he held onto Will for dear life as they toppled.

Rabbits exploded from the pasture in mad dashes as the two stags rolled down the incline. It wasn’t far, nor was it terribly steep. It was just enough of a slope that they could effectively roll down to the bottom unharmed.

At the base, Will went to hop up, pleased that they were exactly where he had ultimately intended for them to end up—only for Hannibal’s head to jerk up as well at the motion, eyes quite close to Will’s. They were knelt, facing each other and only scant inches apart. Will moved his head again, and heard the clack of their antlers once more.

“What the—?” Will paused, and jerked his head again, harder, and realized with growing alarm that their antlers had tangled and snarled, effectively hooking them together.

“ _Will—_ ”

“Wait, okay, I got this—“ He jerked again, their antlers scraping against each other. He placed a palm against Hannibal’s shoulder and twisted his head. He strained as he pulled his body back in time as he pushed Hannibal away.

 

“ _Will_.”

“Wait, Hanni, just hang on,” He didn’t want to admit the panic that was flooding him. He reached up, grabbing their antlers to—

“WILL.” The older stag said quite firmly and the buck froze at the tone, not angry, but attention grabbing. Stilling, Will felt Hannibal shift, his hand a calming touch against Will’s side, as he slid in lips against Will’s own. The forest stag’s heart skipped, pounding against his ribs as he closed his eyes, calming and trusting the other completely. He felt Hannibal’s large yet deceptively dexterous hands cover his own, and gently unhook them in one smooth motion.

Pulling back, Will could feel the heat still emanating from his face and neck, from embarrassment and… other urges. Hannibal sat back on his heels and gave a reassuring squeeze to Will’s side.

“Thanks,” he said sincerely with a smile. Finally free and in the field, Will looked to what was all around them.

Sunflowers. Hundreds of them.

“I told you,” he said to Hannibal proudly. “A whole field of ‘em!”

Hannibal gave a nod, looking to Will.

“ _Beau_.”

Will frowned, remembering the word from previous conversations and contexts. “’ _Beau_ ’? That’s ‘beautiful, right?” Will stood and looked to the many sunflowers, to the many bees and warm rays of sun. “Yeah. Aren’t they?”

Hannibal smiled and continued to look at Will and Will only.

“ _Oui. Beau_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!~


End file.
